


Flight Feathers

by Bluspirit92



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel 616, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wings, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M, Pre-Slash, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-19 13:22:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2389802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluspirit92/pseuds/Bluspirit92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter and Wade take care of each other's wings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Peter unceremoniously dropped dropped Wade’s unconscious body on the couch in his apartment, glad to be rid of the weight. He rolled his shoulders, giving his wings a little flap to stretch them, then flipped Wade over onto his back. 

There was a large gash that was slowly healing, and it was so deep Peter could see Deadpool’s spine. He resisted the urge to gag, and reached forward to remove the swords from his back so he could get a better look at the injury. 

Pulling off the swords gave him a better view of both the injury, and Wade’s wings. Peter had never seen Wade’s wings. The man always kept them folded tight against his back, and covered by swords, a position Peter always thought must have been painful, but now he understood why he had always done it. 

Wade’s wings had been clipped. The flight feathers were either missing altogether, or chopped up and shredded. Clipping someone’s wings was a terrible act, taking away the ability for flight, and violating a person’s trust. 

Peter remembered hearing whispers about wing clippings. It was only ever done as a serious punishment or the mental patients.

People can only touch another’s wings if the person trusts them or they give permission. They were usually cleaned or taken care of by family members, friends, or lovers. Peter realized sadly that Wade probably hadn’t had those types of people in his life.

Besides being clipped, many of the feathers were bent or almost falling out. The wings looked like they had been a deep gray, but they were covered in dirt and mangled beyond repair. By the time Peter tore his eyes from Wade’s wings, the wound on his back had almost closed, though the man was still unconscious. 

Peter’s only goal had been to get Wade off the street, and to a safe place to heal, and all his instincts told him to leave. But his hand was drawn towards the broken wings. His fingers stroked the remaining feathers, coming away stained with blood and dirt. He let out a sharp breath. 

Wade had never given him permission to touch his wings. That meant Wade trusted him. Peter was surprised the man could still trust, considering what he’d been through. Peter had been planning on leaving, but now he decided to make good on Wade’s trust. 

He went to the small kitchen, filled two glasses with water, and grabbed a toothbrush. He stretched Wade's wings out to full extension, about 18 feet. They were so big the covered Peter, shielding him. He knelt in front of the couch Wade was passed out on and began to scrub at the wings. 

He gently wiped the dirt from in between the feathers, and washed off the dried blood. Once they were clean, the feathers were soft and an inky blue-gray, almost black. He tried to straighten the bent feathers as best he could, and stretched the wings out to full extension. There were still featherless patches, and not nearly enough full feathers to even hope for flight, but it was an improvement. 

Wade’s wings gave a little flutter, signalling that he was waking up, and Peter sighed. He gave the wings one last look, both sad for the loss of flight, and admiring of their beauty. He gave the feathers one last touch and disappeared out the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I can't really write Deadpool that well, so I kept him unconscious the whole fic. I'm terrible, I know.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a good night, Wade sees Peter's wings for the first time. It's a very good night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few people asked for more of this au, so here it is! It's a little short, but I hope it's an enjoyable follow up. It really means a lot that people wanted to read more, so thanks! Just to clarify in case it's confusing, this takes place a little bit after the first chapter, about a week or two later.

Wade first saw Peter’s wings after a long night. It was a good night, at least for Wade. They had patrolled together, Wade hadn’t killed or seriously hurt anyone, and Peter had even complimented him. Twice! Maybe more, but Wade had kind of been in a daze after the first two times and missed a lot of the conversation. 

And to make the amazing night even better, Peter let Wade into his apartment. In Peter’s defense, he was very tired and passed out almost as soon as they entered, but still. The only other time he had been here was one time he’d been unconscious. For Peter to let a conscious, uninjured Wade into his home was either a huge step forward in their relationship, or the sign of some massive lapse in judgement probably caused by a supervillain. 

Wade decided it was better for his sanity and enjoyment of the moment to believe it was a huge step forward. 

Peter had invited him in, and they had sat on the couch talking. Like a real conversation. Even though Peter had fallen asleep a few minutes in, Wade wasn’t disappointed. Like he said, huge step forward. There’d be time for a conversation longer than five minutes later in their relationship, he was sure. 

After Peter had passed out, (Face down on the couch, hand brushing the floor, making little noises so close to snoring) Wade considered leaving. He was sure Peter wouldn’t want him watching him sleep. Or in his apartment when he couldn’t monitor him. He had stared for a few minutes, but then (quite impressively) discovered a massive amount of self control and restraint he didn’t know he had, and made for the door.

But the morally sound, non-stalkery decision he was very proud of was abruptly halted when Peters wings unfurled. 

All of his restraint and self control out the window. And he had been so impressed with himself before that. 

Still, the nagging idea that he should just follow through and leave was outweighed by those wings. 

Wade had always thought they’d be fluffy and white. Like an angel. He knew that would fit Peter, who was practically an angel in all the other ways. 

But he was wrong. Peter’s wings were brown. They started a dark brown, the same color as his hair, and probably just as soft (not that Deadpool had ever touched Peter’s hair. No, he definitely hadn’t done that). 

Then, they faded to a lighter brown, and finally to a pale tan at the primaries. They weren’t fluffy or puffy, but sleek and smooth, though Wade was sure they were soft. 

They fluttered softly as Peter took a breath, and Wade’s wings shifted in response. But he didn’t let them out, stretch them, or shield Peter’s small sleeping body with his own large broken wings. That would be cruel. And Wade had promised Peter he wouldn’t be cruel anymore. 

Maybe Peter wouldn’t mind Wade’s ugly-ass wings being near his angel ones. He had cleaned them, touched them once, and not once told Wade how disgusting they were. After that night, he had wanted to let his wings out too. For the first time in ages he wanted to stretch them, and he almost didn’t care what people thought about the scarred psycho with the clipped wings. 

But he hadn’t and he wouldn’t now. He had self control. He had restraint. Peter had helped him with that. 

So he just sat there and watched Peter’s perfect wings flutter with every rise and fall of his chest. After a while of staring at the hypnotizing motion, he reached out for them.

It was totally subconscious, or he’d never have done it. He wasn’t even wearing gloves. 

He noticed in time and pulled his hand back. Thank god he had had the self control not to. It would have been so wrong for him to touch Peter’s wings. 

He smiled a little, proud of his restraint, until Peter’s breathing changed. It got harsher, faster. Like sleep hyperventilating. His hand that had been touching the floor tensed to a claw, his eyes shut tighter, and he muttered something. Nightmare. Definetly. Wade knew all the signs, and this fit exactly. 

His wings were no longer flapping gently, but fully extended and rigid. 

Wade took a deep breath and hoped to god he was making a good decision. He was sure Peter would tell him in the morning.  
He reached back out and tapped one of Peter’s feathers. Satisfied that nothing would attack him for this violation, he tried again, this time shakily stroking the feathers. 

As Peter’s breathing became more even, and the wings relaxed and lowered, he became more confident. He traced the feathers, from the tips of the primaries to where the base feathers disappeared into Peter’s suit. 

Peter calmed slowly as Wade trailed his fingers along the feathers. Now Wade’s self control was completely gone. Even though Peter’s nightmare seemed over, Wade kept going, tickling the base of the wings, and smiling as the flapped back up when he did.  
Wade stayed like that for a while, Peter having small recurring nightmares throughout the night. Wade knew how bad nightmares were, and Peter obviously had a lot. Wade resolved to hug Peter next time he saw him awake. 

It was what felt like forever before Wade remembered the earlier decision to get out before Peter realized his mistake of letting Wade in. 

But, once he did, it was surprisingly easy to rediscover the self control. 

Confident that Peter wasn’t going to be having anymore nightmares, and seeing how near to morning it was, Wade stood and left. He left a post-it saying thanks with a little smiley face on Peter’s forehead. 

He’d probably get a serious yelling at the next night for touching those wings, but he’d think about that tomorrow. Tonight was happy. Tonight was a good night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade finds paints in Peter's apartment and has some fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another little drabble to go with the other ones. I am constantly shocked and excited that people want more, so here it is. Thanks for all the support with this story, it means a lot!
> 
> PS. I'm not sure if painting a pair of wings is safe, but it just seemed cute. If it's too ridiculous, sorry.

Peter woke to feel something wet and cold on his wings. He opened one eye and glared as threateningly as he could at Wade who was sitting on the table next to him. “What are you doing?” 

Wade blinked innocently and continued stroking Peter’s wings, “Making art,” he said without looking at Peter. 

“I mean not that your wings aren’t pretty, cause they’re gorgeous, but I found these, and-”

Peter touched Wade’s arm, “Hey.” 

Wade took a deep breath, “Well, I was bored and you were asleep, and your wings were really pretty but I didn’t want to stare, so I just went looking around your apartment, and I found these,”

“Wade? What did you find?” Peter said slowly, worry mounting. He didn’t think he had anything weird in his apartment, but his wings felt weird, and he knew personally what kind of weird crap Wade could do with the most ordinary things. 

“Paint,” Wade said like it was obvious. 

He lifted a paintbrush coated in purple paint. 

It took Peter a minute to figure out that Wade had put that stuff on his wings. 

“You painted my wings?” he asked, not yet angry, but definitely confused and shocked. 

Wade shrunk back a bit, smile falling a bit, “I was bored and there was paint, but no paper, just wings, and I thought your wings would look nice with colors.”

“Do they look nice?” Peter asked. He didn’t want to get into an argument now, or hurt Wade. As long as the paint would wash out, he’d get over it. 

Wade grinned proudly, “Yeah. Like a big rainbow.”

Peter fully spread his wings and turned his head as far as he could to see them. 

Wade had painted every feather a separate color. He had done the right wing on both sides, and had started on the back of the left. His wings looked a bit like fifteen cans of paint had exploded on him. 

But it looked nice actually. 

“Could you take a picture?” Peter asked. 

“Already did,” Wade announced with pride. He pulled out a phone and showed Peter about thirty pictures of a sleeping Peter with brightly colored wings. 

Peter stood, and shook his wings out a little, spraying paint on Wade and the couch, both of which were already stained. 

“Can I do yours?” Peter asked. 

Wade looked at his feet and was silent for a minute. “Uh, I don’t think there’s enough feathers on mine for that.”

“You don’t need that many feathers, just the right colors. It’ll look pretty,”

Wade sighed, and Peter could feel him giving in. 

“If you think it’ll look pretty,” Wade said.

Peter nodded, sat down next to Wade and picked up a brush, “I know it will.”

He pulled Wade’s wings open and began to gently paint over the feathers, red at the base, fading out to pink at the tips. Wade had less feathers, but the paint took your attention from the sores and loose feathers. 

“Do you think this’ll wash off?” Peter asked as he painted. 

“Mostly I’m just hoping it isn’t toxic.”

Peter stared, “What!”

Wade laughed, “I mean just don’t eat it. Then you should be fine,”

“Yeah, I was really planning on licking your wings,” Peter muttered. 

He realized he shouldn’t have said that a second too late. 

“That’s okay, I’ll lick yours. It won’t kill me, and I bet it’ll feel good,”

Peter gulped. That didn’t actually sound like a bad idea. Though maybe with something more edible than paint. And not just on his wings.  
Peter shook his head. There was a long silence as Peter finished painting. 

“Do they look good?” Wade asked when he felt Peter stop. 

“Yeah,” Peter said. And they did. Peter wasn’t the best painter, and he wasn’t sure about the color scheme, but Wade’s wings matched his  
suit and looked nice. 

Peter stood. “I’m gonna put this stuff away,” he waved at the paints.

Wade stood too. “On one hand, I’m a lazy bastard. On the other, I am partially responsible,” he stared at Peter. 

Peter sighed, “I’ll do it. Relax.”

Wade grinned and hugged Peter. 

Their wings brushed and Peter felt like a shock had been sent through him. Though maybe that wasn’t the best metaphor, because this felt good (and he knew personally how much shocks could hurt).

Wade pulled back, and Peter grabbed his shoulders to stop him. Wade looked nice, with that wide smile on his face, and Peter was staring at his lips. And he was pretty sure he wanted to kiss him. Peter sucked in a deep breath and ignored the confused look on Wade's face. 

And he kissed him. It just felt right. 

When they broke apart later, Wade was breathing heavily. 

“So do I get to lick your wings off?”

Peter laughed and rubbed at Wade’s wings, fingers coming away red. “We should wash the paint off first.” 

Wade grabbed Peter’s hand and dragged him laughing towards the shower. “Well, that can be fun too,”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, I can't really write Deadpool that well, so I kept him unconscious the whole first chapter. I'm terrible, I know.


End file.
